With Great Science comes a Great mess
by Crescentmoon2002
Summary: "Sir Starchy, don't drink detergent- it'll make you grow tentacles!" Chell wasn't a scientist. She wasn't even a full time employee. Before the takeover she was one of Aperture's more tenacious janitors. Join Chell and Sir Starchy- I mean, Wheatley as they clean their way through the labs of Aperture- and maybe become partners for life in the process. Chap 7 is delayed for now.
1. First Day on the Job

(Oh wow, it's been a really really long time since I last posted. Sorry about that. Here's a short first chapter as an example of what this series is going to be like. I'll try to set up a schedule so that there will be a new chapter every week or so, but until then, I hope you enjoy this short thing over here. Critiques are very much appreciated.)

* * *

And so today was the day Chell started her new job as janitor at famous Science-making, test-subject-harming company, Aperture Science. She swung the lightweight mop in her hand with gusto as she swaggered down the corridor to the janitor's closet. The elevator ride down there had been stuffy and claustrophobic, but she knew it would all be worth it to pay for her college fees.

"Why don't you just be a waitress, or a librarian or heck- you could flip burgers!" Her friend had told her, but she would have none of that! Chell wanted adventure, she wanted excitement, she wanted to dance around and splatter water all over the floor! (In truth, Aperture just paid more. And with a little anxiety weighing her down, she began to wonder why.)

When she finally arrived at the janitor's closet, Chell jammed the key in, turned it around, feeling a jump in her heart as she heard the click that would officially begin her day at work.

Her eyes widened at the glorious sight before her. Spare mops of all shapes and sizes! Bottles of a glowing green substance labeled "DEETERGEHNT"! As she was immersed in this new world of cleaning supplies, she heard a small voice behind her. "Um, hello? Ca-can you hear me from in there? Well of course you can- I mean, if you're not deaf . . . Are you deaf?" The voice paused for a moment before continuing. "Sorry, that was a silly thing to ask- gosh, darn it! If she were deaf how exactly would she even hear that question-"

"Wow, you are quite the talkative one, aren't ya?"

With that sentence uttered, Chell turned around with a hand on her hip, and saw the bluest eyes she had ever seen.

"Sorry! I'm sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt your, uh . . . what exactly are you doing?"

* * *

(Just a quick note: The misspelling of the word "detergent" was intentional.)


	2. Assistant Slave Janitor Wheatley

AN: Sorry for the wait! This chapter is a little shorter than I wanted it to be, but I've got exams to study for, so I guess I'll have leave it that way T_T. On a side note, I've decided to at least attempt to post a new chapter every weekend- hope you're okay with that. That's all for now- please review, if you can. Criticism and suggestions will be greatly appreciated.

* * *

"I'm seeking cleaning supplies, my friend!" Chell replied with much enthusiasm as she pointed to her name card. "I am the new janitor of this facility."

"Oh! Well, you're the one I've been looking for!" the blue-eyed man gushed. "I'm your assistant- as you can see right here, yep, on my shiny new name card," he gestured wildly to the aforementioned name card, index finger jabbing at the words CARL WHEATLEY: ASSISTANT SLAVE JANITOR. Chell peered-stared, more of- at it for perhaps a moment too long, with her face contorted into some unearthly expression that elicited a nervous reaction from the name card's owner.

"Uh . . . um- why are you staring at me like that?"

Chell looked up, which seemed to startle him even more.

"I-I'm sorry, didn't mean it like that-you can look at me all you want, really-Oh gosh that sounds reallyreallyreally wrong doesn't it? It sounds so wrong . . .Ugh!" Mr. Carl Wheatley ran a hand through his hair, sighing in pure, utter defeat as he proceeded to drown in a pool of awkwardness and accidental dirty talk.

"Wheatley. That's your name, innit?"

"Wheatley's uh . . . my last name, actually- yeah, it's my last name, but lots of people call me that, so-"

"Wheatley, then. I'll call you Wheatley."

Chell's mind instantly flew to the number of cereal-box related jokes she could crack with that name- her lips curving into a smirk of satisfaction. Turning back to the closet, she opened her arms as wide as the narrow entrance would allow and declared fervently. "Now, let the cleaning begin, my Wheatilicious friend!"

"That sounds . . . good, actually-yeah sounds totally good- it sounds all of the good, in fact!"

* * *

Their first job was delivered to them via an incredibly loud announcement over the megaphone- followed by a whole lot of screaming at some barista called Martin. With that, the "Sanitization Duo", as Chell had cleverly dubbed them, took off to Lab #87.

As Chell kicked open the door with a fluorescent yellow boot she had bought off a hobo in the lobby, the Sanitization duo let their gaze rest on the horrific- and almost traumatizing- mess before of multi-coloured gel decorated the wall, violent splashes of a brown substance Chell could only recognize as coffee were scattered across the room- and worst of it all were the puddles of coffee-flavoured slime that soaked the test pads and documents- neither one of the Sanitization duo wanted to think about whatever caused this tragedy.

Chell jabbed Wheatley in the side with her almost unnaturally sharp elbow.

"What'cha waiting for? Let's get to cleaning!"

"Yes, sir!"

". . ."

"I mean ma'am. Totally meant to say ma'am. Lil' ol' Wheatley hasn't gone insane yet-"

"Shut up, and get the bucket, buddy."

"Okay, okay, getting the bucket. Just getting the bucket."

Mop in hand, Chell began a tedious battle against the repulsive repulsion gel.

* * *

_Later on . . ._

"Hey."

No response was received.

"Hey, Mr. Wholegrain Wheatley."

"Wha-?"

"Look what I found."

Chell waved her portalicious prize in the air, an impossibly wide grin of absolute triumph on her face. Wheatley's eyes went so wide, he could have been mistaken for a frog.

"What? Is that a portal gun?" He was far too shocked to proceed with his usual rambling- and Chell was rather grateful for that.

She nodded. "This is going to make our job much, much more exciting."

"Er . . . What so you plan on doing with that, exactly?" Wheatley's voice was filled to the very brim with anxiety.

"You'll see, my friend. You will see." And with that, Chell began her most masterful plan.


	3. The Most Masterful Plan

AN: So sorry it came out a couple days late! This chapter isn't as long as the previous one, and it might not be quite as funny. . . some things have been going on IRL, and I'm not in the best mood for my usual humor so please, do bear with me.

* * *

With a portal over here and a portal over there, Chell had everything set up for her most masterful plan in the span of five seconds. "Are you ready?" she grinned toothily in pure, unadulterated anticipation. Mr. Carl Wheatley, who was nervously clutching at a bucket of cold water, nodded and gave her what was supposed to be an anxious smile- but turned out looking like it was ripped from the face of the Cheshire Cat.

"Great. Now, throw the water!"

In his haste, the assistant slave janitor had tossed the water- along with the clunky, metal bucket into the portal on the floor. Chell, being the impatient person that she was, was too busy firing the next portal to notice it. The momentum gathered from the endless fall caused the water to fly at a particularly stubborn patch of blue gel, wiping its repulsive existence from the world.

. . . Meanwhile, the bucket proceeded to hurtle itself at the window next to the mentioned patch, thus smashing it to pieces. How rebellious of it!

"The hell?" muttered a very confused janitor as she picked her way through shattered glass to retrieve the offending bucket. "Wheatley! Why did ya' throw the bucket in too?!"

"Ah-I'm so sorry! Didn't mean to do that. Oh, I'm in trouble now, aren't I?"

"Argh, we gotta put this thing back together before the boss comes in."

And so the Sanitization Duo spent two minutes and forty-two seconds of their pointless, nonsensical lives in silent contemplation, before one of them finally spoke.

"The boss doesn't exactly have the best eyesight, does he?"

"Don't think so."

"Then, I might have an idea on how to fix this . . . maybe."

"How?" Chell placed her hands on her hips in a most demanding- and rather intimidating- pose.

Wheatley's eyes flitted back and forth from the tragically broken window to the floor like a hummingbird. "I-uh. . . I can't do it if you're watching. . ." he muttered at last.

"What did you say?"

"I can't do it if you're watching!"

"Why not? You're not gonna take off your clothes or anything, are ya'?"

"No! 'Course not. Just- Argh- Could you just turn around for a sec . . . please?"

Chell huffed irritably, but turned her back anyway. Wheatley quickly stuffed his face with some gel from his mop, mixing the repulsive stuff around in his mouth. He continued this very much desperate measure by coating each shard of glass with his adhesive spit, rearranging them back into the window frame. He wiped a trail of drool from his chin. "Okay, you can turn around now!"

Chell gaped at the smudges of gel on the other janitor's face. "Wheatley . . . Did you just . . . put repulsion gel in your mouth?"

Wheatley's face fell at the accusatory tone in her voice. "Sorry, I-"

He suddenly felt his shoulders being grabbed and shaken violently like a bottle of soda.

"Sir Starchy Wheatley, I dunno 'bout you, but I'm pretty sure that stuff is very, very much toxic and you should wash it out. Now."

"What?!"

Wheatley made a mad dash towards one of the buckets, and attempted to rinse the gel out with the water- only to immediately gag and spit it out after he realized he'd poured bubbling detergent into his mouth.

"Sir Starchy, don't drink detergent- it'll make you grow tentacles!"

"Aah!"

* * *

When the boss arrived ten minutes later and surprisingly for them managed to see the damage without much difficulty, he had punished the remorseful Sanitization Duo by making them work overtime.

Without portals- or extra pay, for that matter.

_Well,_ Wheatley thought. _At the very least he wasn't poisoned or crawling with tentacles . . . was he?__  
_

He double checked in the shower that night just to make sure.


	4. Childhood Flashbacks involving Radios

AN: Hey there, people! So, I've decided that this AU won't have Chell as the daughter of Cave Johnson and Caroline(as much as I love that fan-theory) because I'm pretty sure Cave wouldn't let his daughter clean up his employees' coffee-flavoured gel, would he? Anyway, I'm also going to try to be a little bit serious here and there in this fic as this will mostly be canon complaint- It starts in Aperture's glory days and will probably end after GLaDOS's takeover. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

The next morning, Chell arrived at the facility energized, and even more determined to prove her brilliance as a janitor after the previous day's events. Today was the day she would excel at whatever task given! Today was the day she'd prove to her boss that she wasn't a lazy lump! With that in mind, she strode down the corridors towards the Aperture Science Multi-Purpose Hall- where her Wheatilicious partner and not-so- Wheatilicious boss stood waiting for her.

"You two listen up- this afternoon there's gonna be one of Mr. Johnson's Science Fairs- got that?" started the boss. "Now you need to make sure this place is as clean as Ms. Caroline's private toilet.'How clean is that?' you ask? Let me tell you- it's spotless. So you know what I'm expecting."

He readjusted his tie of authority that matched his boots of authority that matched his baldness of authority. "And you-" He casted a sharp glance of authority at Chell. "No more shenanigans," he spoke before walking off with a stride of absolute, pure . . . . . . . _**authority.**_

Both Chell and Wheatley wished they had that much authority- it would be most glorious if they did.

Without further ado, the Sanitization Duo stepped into the hall and began to clean- the tedious way.

* * *

As Chell battled off a monstrous dust bunny, she noticed a small shape tucked in between the stage and the wall. She felt a sudden overwhelming urge to pick it up and rub her face all over it- which was exactly what she decided to do (minus the face-rubbing). When Chell blew the dust off her newly acquired prize, she realized that it was a radio.

A fancy Aperture Science approved radio.

Chell ran her fingers over the buttons and was thrown into a glorious childhood flashback!

* * *

_Years prior . . ._

"_Dad!" _

"_Hey there, my little poppy flower. How was school today?"_

"_Dad, I told ya' to stop calling me that. I'm ten!"_

_Dad laughed- something warm and loving._

"'_Course you are, sweetheart." He ruffled her hair._

_Chell crossed her arms and huffed in fake frustration. "Come here, I've got something to show you." _

_She turned around at that line, peering with much curiosity at the gadget her father was holding. It was white and sleek, with little buttons that Chell very desperately wanted to press. "What is that?" she asked, finger pointed at the object. "It's a radio, Chell."_

"_It plays music." Dad added as a sort of afterthought. _

"_I know what radios do, dad." Chell rolled her eyes._

_Chell picked the radio up with remarkably large hands, squinting at the unusual design type. "From your company?" she asked. "Yep- it's an Aperture Science approved radio."_

_Her eyes gazed in awe at the piece of technology. "Awesome . . ." she muttered._

"_I see you've finally gotten that radio I asked for, son." Grandma came walking from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron, smirk on her face. "'Course I did, mama."_

"_Come on, sweetie," said Dad all of a sudden. "Let's show you how to dance- Estaban family style!"_

_And Chell was swept right off her feet._

_The dance was fast and twirly- Chell was really dizzy by the end of it- but she'd smiled and laughed and sang along . Grandma had shown her how to tango._

_("Pretty girl like you should know how to show up your future hubby on the dance floor, hmm?")_

_Grandma liked to talk about marriage. _

_("I'm not pretty, Grandma- I'm fabulous!")_

* * *

"Chell?"

"Chell?!"

"Chell, are you still alive?!"

The orange-clad janitor snapped out of her trance, almost dropping the radio in the process. "What?"

Wheatley, sighed in frustration. "Argh! You've been standing here completely still for the last ten bloody minutes. What happened?"

"Childhood flashback."

"For ten minutes?"

"For ten minutes."

Wheatley sighed again as Chell finished off the fatally wounded dust bunny. "Ugh, we still have so much to clean!" he complained. "You know- I've pulled out twenty bits of bubblegum from the floor. Twenty!"

"Okay, calm yo' grains- where's all the bubblegum?"

Wheatley pointed accusingly at a patch of pink still stuck to the corner.

Chell put down the radio and strode over to the sticky monstrosity, before scraping it off instantly with the handle of her mop like a super janitor. As she turned around again, she found Wheatley prodding at the radio. "Wow, this blue LED display's really cool isn't it? Ah- reminds me of jellyfish. . ."

Surveying the hall, Chell realized that the floor had been swept, the dust bunnies have been rendered extinct, and the bubblegum had been cleaned off- which left the mopping.

"Hey, Starchy."

"Yeah. . .?"

Chell pushed the 'ON' button of the radio. "Wanna dance?"

"Huh?!" exclaimed Wheatley as if the invitation was some sort of anomaly that only occurred once in a million years.

Mop in hand, Chell began to glide across the hall's floor like a ballerina on crack. "Come on, Mr. Wholegrain!" she turned to the blue-eyed janitor as she shimmied like a fabulous diva. "What'cha got in the groove department?"

All of a sudden, Wheatley's confused face morphed into a very uncharacteristic game-face. "Are you challenging Aperture's grooviest dance star?"

"Pfft! You seem to me more like Aperture's lamest dance blackhole."

"I'll show you lame!" He began to –surprisingly- smash out some pretty fabulous moves of his own.

"Oh, it's on!"

_This was a triumph! We're makin' a note here: HUGE SUCCESS! It's hard to overstate our satisfaction!_

Chell swayed her hips side to side like it was nobody's business- following the beat like her grandmother had taught her, all the while scrubbing germs off the floor. Wheatley was doing pretty great himself- rockin' out like a spiky-haired rock star with glasses.

_Aperture Science! We do what we must because we can! For the good of all of us- except the ones who got FIRED!_

Chell had learned one thing about the blue-eyed janitor that day- he did not hold back when dancing.

It only took five minutes to get the entire floor shining like a new coin.

_But there's no sense crying over every mistake, you just keep on trying 'till you run out of cake! And the Science gets done! And you make a neat gun! For the people who are still alive! Still alive! _

_Still alive!_

* * *

"You two seemed to have done a good job today, unlike the last time." The boss let out a hum of approval.

"Well done."

After he walked out of the room (and took about fifteen authority-filled steps away), Chell slammed her fist into Wheatley's own before yelling;

"Victory is ours!"

"Yeah! Victory!"

"Hey, Chell?"

"Yes, my Wheatilicious friend?"

"Do you think we could do this again sometime?"

"Well, we _are_ gonna be cleaning this place again tomorrow after the fair."

"No, not that- I mean the dancing."

"Oh . . . uh . . . Sure, why not?"

"Great!"

"Oh! My bus is here, catch you later!" Wheatley waved at the other janitor before taking off.

Chell leaned against the locker- casually wondering if she still remembered where she'd placed Grandma's tango songs.


	5. Lunch Break (Part 1)

AN: As per usual, I have written this in the wee hours of the morning like the procrastinating champ I am. Thus, please do tell me if you spot a mistake somewhere- I would really appreciate that (especially considering that my inner editor isn't open for business until 8.00am). Anyway, please enjoy this chapter brought to you by me.

* * *

The day after the fair, Chell and Wheatley had spent four hours arranging chairs, mopping up spilled orange juice- and of course, pulling more bubblegum off the floor.(The Sanitization Duo was starting to very much despise whoever invented the stuff.)

And after those aforementioned four hours, Wheatley had raised a question.

"Hey, um . . . Cheeeell?" asked Sir Starchy, drawling out her name for whatever silly reason his mind had conjured.

"Yeaaah?" Amused, the Chell decided to mimic this odd style of speech.

"Wanna go out for lunch with meeee . . . ?"

"Okaaay . . ."

With that, the two had casually trudged over to the Aperture Science Deluxe Café- the word 'Deluxe' having been scribbled on with chalk. The café was a mere re-purposed toilet- the dividers between stalls removed and used as the kitchen, while the sinks were shoddily covered up with wooden planks and used as tables. Light blue and orange paint coated the walls, with cute little hearts drawn in with darker shades of the colours.

A white sign covered in balloon pictures decorated the front- 'PLEASE DO NOT ALLOW THE FAINT STENCH OF URINE TO AFFECT YOUR APPETITE. TRUST US, THERE IS NO URINE HERE,' it said.

'AT LEAST, NOT A LETHAL AMOUNT,' was penciled in tiny red letters at the button.

Chell bent down to the green chalkboard to read the menu.

_Today's Special- _

Space Muffins (Courtesy of Sasha)

"Ooh! I do like a good muffin," said Wheatley as he marched inside like a chump. "So do I, my friend! I wonder if it's made out of moon rocks," pondered Chell. "That would be rather glorious- and potentially deadly!"

"Two space muffins, please,"

"Comin' right up, astronauts!" a bright-eyed girl with brunette pigtails dashed into the kitchen to fetch their order, leaving Chell and Wheatley all alone at their sink-table.

"So, uh . . . Have any hobbies or interests?" Sir Starchy attempted to stir up some conversation.

"Besides dancing, I don't really know . . . Do canned beans count as an interest?"

"Canned beans?!" exclaimed Wheatley like the world depended on how dramatic his exclamation was. "Who likes canned beans?" he spoke again, very much aghast that anyone could enjoy such an abomination. "I do! What's wrong with them?" said Chell, defending her position as a canned bean lover.

"Well, they're gassy for one thing- and it's barely enough nutrients for one day!"

"Woah, Sir Starchy- didn't know you were a health food supporter. D'ya eat tofu too?" asked Chell teasingly.

"No- well, yes actually. But only 'cause my brother eats it."

"You have a brother?"

"Yeah- two of the little buggers."

"Younger or older? Are they annoying?"

"One of each- and both act like small children!" Wheatley ran a hand through his hair. "They drive me absolutely bonkers sometimes!"

"Yikes," remarked Chell. "What the hell do they do?"

"Well," he began his rant. "-there was this one time while my dad was at work. I was cooking dinner and I had come up with this method of frying two pans of eggs and another pan of fish at the same time with only two stoves. Argh! It was brilliant, really," Sir Starchy threw his hands into the air to emphasize the brilliance of it. "But then Bert and the squirt just _had_ to be running around and tripping me over, didn't they? So I fell flat on my face, dropped dinner, and then had to clean the whole thing up a make it again."

"Then later, while I was still cooking, Bert swaggered over, and just went 'I'm hungry, bro'- and you know what I did?" Wheatley was on his feet by this point in his tragic tale, gesturing wildly and drawing the attention of everyone in the café (but there were only two people there, so it wasn't such a big deal).

"What? Did you punch him in the face whilst screaming in pure, unadulterated rage?" asked Chell, almost as excited as her fellow janitor was.

"Wha?! No!" he exclaimed. "I wouldn't do something so violent! No, no, I sent him to his room and told him to think about what he did." At this, Chell had to suppress a chuckle.

"So, you're Mama Starchy now, huh? How exactly did that happen?"

"My mum writes for a travel magazine- runs around vacationing and rambling about it on paper," he grumbled, pouting. "And dad's gotta work- so since I'm the only mature one among the three of us- I took up the job."

"Uh, sorry about that . . ." he apologized, all of a sudden. "I just get a little emotional with things like this."

"Oh, it's absolutely fine. In fact, compared to most of my friends- you're considered very much stoic!"

Wheatley blushed a little at this- a light pink glow decorating his pale skin.

.

.

.

"Whoosh!" a sudden yell jolted the Sanitization Duo from their conversation. "U.S.S Muffins coming through!" the waitress from before came running, carrying two muffins on a tray. The muffins were coated in a dark blue frosting, and decorated with little stars that came in orange (this colour scheme seemed particularly popular in Aperture, as most people might have noticed).

Chell quickly glanced at the waitress's Aperture Science waitress name card.

**'Hi, I'm Sasha- at your Science-loving service!'**

it said, with black marker. And at the bottom of the card there was a penciled in message that stated:

_And if I don't serve you with a smile, feel free to draw one on my face with a pen!_

This Sasha had a rather glorious sense of humor, you see.

"Very much thanks, my friend!" said Chell enthusiastically.

The waitress's mouth suddenly switched from a carefree smile to a grim line, and she stepped a few steps back. With a fist clutched to her chest, she bowed, closing her eyes. It was a most serious bow- _the_ most serious bow the Sanitization duo had ever seen.

"It is an honour to serve you . . ." she said, still with that serious tone. " . . . on behalf of my homeland . . ."

And then all at once her expression changed and she yelled at the top of her lungs. " . . . in SPACE! Ha ha! Gotcha there, didn't I?"

Both janitors could only dissolve into disbelieving laughter at that point. "My . . . god . . ." Wheatley choked out in between fits of his humorous affliction.

"Oh! There's another ship coming into the docking station. Gotta fly!" she said again before running over to the next set of customers with another cheesy 'whooshing' sound effect. With the Sasha the amusing waitress busy and unable to continue entertaining them, the Sanitization Duo resorted to actually eating their muffins.

Although she didn't say it out loud, Chell was rather paranoid about the blue frosting. She was almost completely convinced that it was conceived from an unearthly mixture of icing and moon rocks. Not wanting to be a spoilsport, however, Chell decided to take in a mouthful of blue . . .

_OH NO, IT'S A SUDDEN CLIFFHANGER- KILL IT!_

AN: And that concludes Part 1 of Lunch Break. Stay tuned for Chell's space muffin experience, more nonsensical dialogue and more friend making- all coming to a cinema near you! Next Sunday, that is.


	6. Lunch Break (Part 2)

AN: Sorry for being late again! Argh- it seems like I can never keep up with my schedule. Apologies for this being such a short chapter- I've been quite busy as of recent times. The next chapter will be back to the usual length (hopefully). Please do review if possible- I'd really appreciate it!

* * *

_Not wanting to be a spoilsport, however, Chell decided to take in a mouth full of blue frosting . . ._

. . . and nearly gagged at how incredibly horrible the thing tasted. Who could come up with such an atrocity?! It tasted of cloves and chili- mixed together with diluted sour milk into some sort of unearthly combination! A sudden voice snapped Chell out of the horribleness, replacing it with a sense of dread and utter bewilderment.

"Mm! This tastes great!"

Why, Mr. Wholegrain Wheatley? Why? Why must you torture me so?, thought Chell, who in her attempt at courtesy nodded and gave Wheatley the most forced smile she had ever given to anyone. She swallowed the chunk of muffin with much difficulty, feeling its rough edges sliding down her throat like sand.

Her partner guzzled his own muffin with gusto, like a starving man who'd just been given a piece of the finest steak in the city. "Hey, Sasha! This is a lovely bit of muffin here- you're a bloody amazing cook!" he yelled at the waitress, who replied with a shouted 'Thanks!'. Chell forced herself to down another 'lovely bit of muffin', trying her hardest not to cringe.

"So, what's your favourite food?" asked Sir Starchy.

_Certainly not muffins_, Chell thought to herself bitterly.

"Black forest cake."

"Ooh!"

Al of a sudden she felt a horrible sensation on the tip of her tongue- what on earth was that strange chunk in the pastry?! It tasted like rotten meat! With a sense of dread and panic, Chell realized that it was a cockroach- a live cockroach.

"So, how's it for you, my fantastic lady astronaut?"

Chell almost screamed at the waitress, but seeing Sasha's eager, hopeful eyes- she decided against it with much determination.

"It's much delicious, I assure you," she said with a grin, roughly shoving the roach to one side with her tongue. "However!" she declared abruptly. "I _do_ need to go to the restroom- so, bye!" With that, the janitor began her mad dash to one of Aperture's fancy lavatories, leaving a very confused Wheatley all alone.

* * *

"Gee- I hope your girlfriend's okay."

"My what?!" Wheatley turned towards the waitress, eyes wide.

"She's not your girlfriend?" asked Sasha, with the look of a confused puppy.

"Well, I think you two would make a great couple- are you thinking of asking her out? Well, to somewhere a little classier than this humble hangar?"

" . . . Maybe." A slight blush coloured Sir Starchy's cheeks.

"Fantastic! You two are like a pair of astronauts stuck in a cramped escape pod. Well, I best get going!"

Wheatley gulped down the last bit of muffin, sighing in relief that it was over- he couldn't believe that he'd managed to get it all past his throat. He also couldn't believe he'd managed to even toss a few compliments to the budding "cook". _Score one for Wheatley!_

Wiping his mouth with his little blue napkin, he _oh-so-casually_ wondered if he had enough money to get ingredients for a good black forest cake- and if Chell was free on Sunday afternoon.


End file.
